Reunion
by Every'Piece'Has'A'Purpose
Summary: He was tired of being alone. He was tired of being the only greaser left. He wanted nothing more then to meet up with his friends again- and he may just get his wish. Rated T because of language


**An: Alright, this is my first _Outsiders_ fanfiction. Hopefully I did a good job, and did the characters justice, too. My main worry is that I didn't get them in character... But, anyway, enjoy the fic:**

**Disclaimer: If I owned this book, Dally and Johnny wouldn't have died... 'Nuff said.**

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><p>Eighty-six was a long time to live. Especially from someone born back in the '50s, and was premature when he first came into the world. Doctors weren't sure if I would if I would make it past the hour, and here I am, almost a full nine decades later, alive and kicking.<p>

Although, it's a much longer life to live when you've got no one to spend it with. Maybe it would've been better had I been somewhat delirious from the past- what was it, now?- fifteen years onward. But, unfortunately, I wasn't senile. I wasn't crazy. I didn't have any form of mental illness that could make me forget all six funerals- well, nine, if you wanted to count the Shepard's- of the gang.

One by one, those funerals made me Ponyboy Michael Curtis- the sole survivor of our pack of Greasers. The last one living from the originating seven (or, again, ten, if you included Tim, Curly, and Angela).

And, damn it, I was sick of it.

After fifteen long years, the loneliness really started to wear you out. Don't get me wrong, I have a family. Two sons, and three amazing grandkids- one that looks so much like Soda that it scares me to pieces whenever I see him- but they don't take the place of my brothers, or Johnny, my best buddy, Two-Bit, our joker that could take the tension out of any situation, the hard-ass Dallas, and even Steve: the kid that never really liked me to begin with. It was just me now, and it was lonely. Annoying. Boring, even. None of the gang were here. There was no one to talk with, no one to make me laugh, no one to even tell me to "shut the hell up!" or to "use my head".

What I wouldn't give to hear Darry say that just once more. Even as I got older- as I had kids of my own, and he had a family, too- he would still tell me I didn't think. Although, I think at that point it had become more of a habit then anything. He'd been doing it since I was fourteen. It must've been hard to stop when I was forty.

It was just a shame Soda didn't get to see me hit that age. He'd been taken out in 'Nam. One bullet did the trick, straight through his heart, and out the back. They said he died instantly, but, then again, who were they to know unless they were the ones who shot him? It hit us all hard- he was the light, the happiness, of all of us- and I was amazed Darry could actually keep a straight face at the funeral. Lord knows I didn't. I bawled until tears literally wouldn't form anymore, and I was dry-sobbing after that. Soda's death practically killed me, too. So much so that I had to go to the hospital's Psychiatric Ward to get medication for chronic depression.

Steve… didn't last much longer. Loosing his best pal, coupled with the haunting memories of the war he'd just barely escaped with his life couldn't have made the best combination. Once he returned home, he drifted from the gang- or, what was left of it. He started hanging around Tim Shepard a lot more then before. About a year- maybe two, but that was definitely stretching it- after we lost Soda, Two-Bit came running into our house faster then I, the track star, thought was even possible. He found Steve in an alley somewhere close to our house, and said he wasn't looking all that great.

I don't think I'll ever forget how fast Darry drove that night. I was clinging to the seat of our beat, ancient pick-up truck for dear life as we drove Steve to the hospital. He lasted a few hours there, I think. But, ultimately, the doctor in charge of him came out and told us the grim news: he was dead, of an alcohol overdose. But, at least he was back with the buddy he missed so much. And, now our group was narrowed down to three.

It stayed that way for quite a while, actually. Two-Bit, shockingly, swore off drinking after what happened to Steve, and didn't take so much as a sip of alcohol. Crazy, right? It was tough, he said, at first, but he didn't want to be the next one buried six feet under, and leaving Darry and I by ourselves.

Too bad my oldest brother was the next one to go.

Like I said, though, it was a while after Steve that he actually died. A good fifty years- putting him at about seventy-fives. A nice, healthy life cut short by some idiot on the road that didn't want to stop at a red light.

Darry was _always_ a careful driver. Even with that beat-up truck, he never once got into an accident- he said he could never afford the insurance increase at the wage he was getting, even with two jobs. And, once he got a higher paying career as a building architect, and could actually afford a better vehicle to drive around, his record was pretty much spotless. So, imagine mine and Two-Bit's surprise when we get the call saying that my big brother was in the hospital, and in critical condition, to top things off.

We rushed over there- hell, I didn't even bother putting on shoes: I just headed out in my socks- and arrived just in time to hear the doctors say he was headed into surgery. Apparently, there was a _lot_ of damage done to his chest. Darry wasn't breathing properly, and his heart wasn't pumping at a normal rate.

It took six, long, tedious hours. Six _very_ long, tedious hours. But, finally, he was out of surgery. Doctors even said he was gonna make a full recovery, he was healing so well in such a short matter of time. Not that I was surprised, though- Darry was a fighter. He could beat anything life had to throw at him, and do it unscratched.

Or, at least, so I thought. But, you know how it goes- Greasers get all the bad luck (even though a certain someone told me different back when I was fourteen).

About two hours after his surgery, something went wrong. His heart monitor went crazy- beating two fast to be normal, and pumping way to much blood into his system. Nurses only told me that it was a symptom of shock- that his body wasn't dealing well with the surgery. But, after his heart let out it's final beat, I found out that the surgery hadn't been done right at all. Someone screwed up about halfway into it, and that caused the fatal mistake.

Needless to say, I never went back to that hospital again.

So, now it was just down to Two-Bit and I. The jokester, and no longer alcoholic, as I'm sure you guessed, was now the next to go.

Only, his was a bit more peaceful. He died in his sleep. It was roughly five years after Darry went- putting this about fifteen years before this present time. He was getting arthritis in his bones, and developing Alzheimer's. Guess all that drinking back from when he was younger finally decided to kill off all his brain cells. Or something like that, at least. I'm not a doctor.

Point is, his body was under a lot of stress, and wasn't exactly in good condition to handle it. He was old, frail, and his bones were so bad that he was condemned to bed-rest. I saw him right before he passed, too. Visited him in the Home he was staying at that morning. I got the call around eleven at night. His heart just stopped, the workers said. It just couldn't take anymore stress. I guess the best thing was that it was peaceful, not like the rest of the guys.

And, just like that, I was by my lonesome. The soul survivor.

I hated it, I really did. At first, it was kind of cool. Saying you're seventy-one years old (which I was at the time) and still kicking, even though doctors weren't sure if you were going to make it past the first week after you were born. But, once the year anniversary of Two-Bit's death rolled around, it was really starting to get quiet.

No one to joke with, or talk to, or just simply enjoy company with. I should rephrase that. I did have my kids- and Darry's, and Two-Bit's (everyone else died before having any)- to chat with… but they weren't my friends. They weren't the people I had grown up around, and had so many adventures with. Now, all I could do about those times were tell them to the grand-kids. I didn't have anyone to reminisce with.

Maybe I was really starting to show just how lonely I was. I wasn't sure. All I knew was that my sons- Patrick and Johnny (I'm sure you can guess where at least one of those names came from)- were starting to appear more often around my house. It could've just been the fact that I was almost ninety, and they didn't want to find their dad dead from a short fall down the stairs, or it could've been that they didn't want me to do anything drastic in what I'm sure they considered my fragile state of mind.

Point is, there was rarely a day where one of them, if not both, were over. Sometimes even their wives stopped by. They could afford to spend the time. My youngest grandkid had just graduated high school, and had just moved into his dorm in college, and the oldest was expecting a family of his own. His girl, and soon to be wife, was about two months from the due date.

My body wasn't like Two-Bit's. I was still going strong, even at my old age. No frail bones, no medical conditions- minus a few breathing problems from all the smoking I'd done from when I was younger. I was in tip-top shape.

It was just this one day that things were off. I was ridiculously tired. As in, I went to sleep at about eight that night, woke up at about ten that morning, and I still didn't want to get up. I felt as if I had gotten only fourteen minutes of sleep, as opposed to fourteen hours. My body just couldn't seem to function. I tried to stay awake for about an hour, but I quickly gave up on that when I could hardly stand. I didn't think much of it, though, stupid as it may seem. I was eighty-six. I figured this was how my body was supposed to be- getting weaker, not as youthful as it had been. I shrugged it off without so much as a second thought.

So, I went back to my bedroom to rest. I stayed there the entire day. My sons came over, and both of them joined me in there until Johnny had to leave to get to his night-shift as a security guard, and Patrick had to head home and keep his wife company. We played a few rounds of poker, but I fell asleep halfway through the third one. I woke up when they made me a small dinner to munch on, but I didn't really touch it. Somewhere in between that, and the TV blaring throughout the confines of my bedroom, I slumbered again. This time I woke up just in time to have them both bid me their good-bye's, and saying how they'll both be back again tomorrow.

I heard Patrick yell out a, "See you tomorrow, Pop! Get a goodnight's sleep! We actually want to talk to you when we come by!"

Johnny laughed, and so did I- but I don't think they heard me. I was upstairs, and they were on the first floor, getting ready to leave. Or, left, I guess was a better word choice. That was obvious when the door slammed shut, and it vibrated throughout the whole house. I really wished they didn't do that so loudly. It'd been a habit, for a lack of better words, their mother, Cherry (yep, we eventually did wind up hooking up, but it didn't last for too long) and I- before and even after we split- tried to break, but weren't all that successful with.

Whether I wished for it to be softer or not, that door slamming was the last thing I heard before I drifted into slumber one final time.

But, of course, you never know when you're going to die. I'm no exception to that rule. I woke up from my sleep, ready for it to be like any other morning before it.

So, imagine my surprise when I felt a foot- I assumed- come in contact with my head, and my even greater shock when I found it didn't hurt. After a couple more blows, the person above me realized I wasn't moving, and I thought it was over with.

Nope.

He resorted to shouting next.

"Yo! Kid!" …was he blind? I was eighty-six, not eight, "It's time to get up! You're not Sleeping Beauty- hell, you're not even a princess! And, although I will admit you're good looking, that don't give you the damn right to snooze off in la-la land! Now get your ass off the ground, and wake the hell up!"

And, while it was annoying, that voice was familiar. Eerily familiar. Enough so that it got me to open my eyes up, and see just where I was at.

Now, my shock turned into a near heart-attack when I saw an eighteen year old Two-Bit Matthews standing over me, the traditional smirk on his face, and an eyebrow raised as he stared down at me, gray eyes dancing with nothing less than shear amusement.

"'Bout time. I woulda resorted to bad puns next. And you know how annoying I can make them," he stated with a wink. My eyes just grew wide. What. The. Hell.

This guy standing above me had been dead for fifteen years. And had been an old man like myself when it happened. So, how was he suddenly walking again, and in the body he hadn't had for the past fifty or sixty years? That shouldn't be possible… right? Unless I really had gone senile in my old age, and was starting to hallucinate…

"C'mon, kid!" he whined, a pout forming on his face, "Say something! Do you know how long I've been waiting to do this? Hell, I had to race your brothers to get here first. And, now you're not even gonna say a word?"

Reluctantly, I picked myself up from my spot on the ground- was it even that? I hadn't checked. In this demented world I was in, it could've been anything- and stood straight next to him. I only came up to his chin… like I had when I had been a teenager. Two-Bit gazed at me expectantly.

"You're dead," I stated simply, "And you've been that way for a decade and a half." I didn't bother saying anything other then that. It should've gotten my point across fairly well.

Now, his amusement was gone. It disappeared the second the last word came out of my mouth. His light, carefree eyes were somber and serious. "Yeah. I am dead, Pony. No one said I wasn't."

I stared at him. There wasn't much else I could do at the moment. He… just said he was dead. So, had I really gone crazy?

Finally, after what seemed like hours of tense silence- though it obviously hadn't been that long, I finally said: "Then, what's going on?" I don't think I had the ability to say more then one sentence at a time.

Two-Bit ran a hand through his rusty hair as he let out a sigh. "C'mon, Ponyboy. You're smart. You can figure this out. I'm dead, right? So, if you can see me…" He trailed off, staring at me expectantly yet again. I still hadn't totally gotten over how young he really looked. It was like taking a trip back through time.

"I must be crazy, or being haunted."

Another sigh. "No. Neither or those. But, I gotta say, they're good guesses," he let out a small laugh, "There's one other option here. I'm _dead_," extra emphasis on the last word, "Besides being haunted, or going crazy, how else to you see a dead person?"

It hit me like a ton of bricks then. And I shook my head- which, if my eyes weren't fooling me, I'm pretty sure I saw a flash of redish-brown hair swing by my eyes, as opposed to the white color I'd grown accustomed to after all these years- as if that would make the thought go away. "There's no way. That's just not possible. Two-Bit, I'm not…" I couldn't even get the word out without it getting stuck in my throat.

"You're not what, kid?" he coaxed, even using hand motions for me to spit out whatever I was going to say; though I had a strong feeling he already knew.

"I'm not… I'm not dead, damnit!" I finally grounded out through my teeth, exasperated. This was really becoming to much to handle. First, seeing a person that's supposed to be buried six feet under for the past fifteen years with him standing in his teenage body, and then he was saying that I just died, myself. Crazy. And stressful. And very, very confusing.

"And why can't you be?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, "Do you even see where you're at?" Actually, no, I hadn't, but I didn't say anything, "Cause it sure as hell ain't your house. And, do I even need to bring up myself again? You're supposed to be the smart one, you know…" At least his sense of humor was back. Serious Two-Bit really wasn't enjoyable.

When he brought it up, I decided I should take a look around. And, damn, was he right. This was nothing close to where I lived. It wasn't even a house. If this was heaven, and what Two-Bit said was trued, then it was identical to the stereotypes. I was standing on something that I had to take a guess and say was a cloud, although I wasn't falling through it, just staying put as if it was concrete. The sky surrounding us was as blue as it got. Gorgeous, really, with no clouds in sight- minus the ones below us. And there seemed to be some type of (how do I explain this?) light shining from all around. It illuminated everything, but didn't seem to come from any one place. It was just… there.

"So… this is the really thing, huh?" I asked after a minute, "I'm really… you know… in the great beyond?"

He snickered. "That's the first I've heard it called that. The Great Beyond. A little corny, but nice… We could make that work. But, yup, your time down on Earth is up, kid. You're stuck up here now."

"Is that how you look like that?"

"Like what?" Two-Bit asked, and then thought for a moment before exclaiming, "Oh! You mean like how I did back in the 60's? Yup. Shoot, Ponyboy, you look like you're fourteen again."

I did? Really?

Two-Bit must've seen how confused I looked. He put a hand on my back, and pushed me forward until we were standing next to… something. I wasn't even sure what to call it. From how it looked, I would've said it was a pond or a lake, but there was a strong feeling in my gut that it was nothing of the sort.

I could catch a glimpse of my reflection in it, however. And, that was point two for Two-Bit being right. Staring back at me was the face I'd had back when I was fourteen years old. Thinning into a man, with still tiny traces of baby on it. Round-ish cheeks, and dimples surrounding my lips. And the wide green-grey eyes that seemed to have shrunk after all these years but suddenly regrew.

I let out a low whistle before I could help myself, and Two-Bit laughed from behind me, clapping a hand on my back and making me stumble a bit. A moment of silence passed before I asked my next question.

"Is everyone else here, too?"

He nodded eagerly. "The whole gang. Johnny, Dally, Steve-o, and your brothers."

At that last word, I looked up from my reflection to him. My brothers? Soda I hadn't seen in so long- at least seventy years. And Darry I hadn't seen in twenty. They were both here?

"Them two wanted to be the ones to welcome you here. We all knew you were comin' round today. But, I told 'em it was my turn. Soda got to welcome Darry and Steve, and Darry greeted me. So, I wanted to have a go at it. I ran here just before you got here, though- in case they changed their minds." He winked a grey eye, and I couldn't help but laugh in spite of myself. I really did miss this. Two-Bit was like the joker older brother I didn't have. Soda was the happy one, and Darry kept us all in line, while Two-Bit made us all have fun.

He gave a cough, dragging me out of my mini-musing. "Lemme guess: you wanna go see them, don't you?"

I nodded eagerly. Of course I did.

With another wink, Two-Bit put a hand on my back again, and started showing me the way.

The second I saw Soda, my heart leapt. Darry was standing right next to him, and so were the rest of the gang that I hadn't seen for so long. It made me want to cry, but, even if I was dead, greasers had a reputation to uphold. They looked identical to how they did ages ago. Young and vibrant. Shockingly so. And I think that pushed me to crying even more.

Two-Bit shoved me behind him once we were within ten feet from the rest of the them, and put a finger to his lips. I took the hint, despite how much I wanted to run up and hug my brothers. My steps fell in synch with his. He walked forward while I clung to the back of his Mickey Mouse tee-shirt so I could keep from falling forward.

Soda spoke up first once we- I should say _he_- came into view. Hearing his voice after so long was enough to really make me start bawling. I bit down on lip to keep from doing so. "Did ya find him, Two-Bit?" my middle brother called, raising an eyebrow. I really wished I knew how they did that. I was probably one of the only ones of the gang that couldn't.

Rusty hair shook in front of me. "Nope. He wasn't there yet. Guess he's a stubborn one when it comes to dying."

We walked forward a few more paces before coming to a stop at such an angel that I wasn't visible to the gang. I could see them slightly, but I barely had a good view on anyone other then Dally, who, if I was seeing things right, had Johnny on his other side.

I heard Darry mumble something under his breathe, but I couldn't make out what.

Johnny sighed near me. "I thought we would be all together today," he said sadly, "Maybe we got the date wrong?" he suggested.

Dally shrugged. If he had a cigarette, I could imagine him twirling it in between his fingers.

Steve didn't say a word- not that I expected him to. I'm sure he was secretly glad that I wasn't here, but he wouldn't mention anything with my brothers here, especially Sodapop. The two of us never really got along- we just put up with each other basically because we had to.

Two-Bit started walking again. This time so I was facing Dally and Johnny full on, and slightly Steve, but not Darry or Soda. I released one of my hands from the back of Two-Bit's shirt and put a finger on my lips just like he had done earlier. Hopefully my brothers didn't see the other guys' eyes go wide when seeing me… It was lucky they were all quick to hide their shock.

I saw Two-Bit's shoulder move as he clapped a hand onto Soda's shoulder. "Hey, man, it's cool. We'll get that runt next time," I really wanted to hit him for that, but I managed to restrain myself from doing so, knowing that it would give away my hiding spot if I did.

Soda just sighed while Darry pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Ain't that what you've been saying for the past couple'a weeks?" Dally asked, smirking amusedly while crossing his arms and leaning back slightly.

Two-Bit stuck out his tongue- I think. It was hard to tell from back here. "Well, I've been wrong. So sue me. I make mistakes. I'm only human!" he cried dramatically, moving a hand to put it up against his head in faux hurt.

"You're dead, idiot. You can't use that excuse anymore."

"So, just because I'm dead, I can't make mistakes?"

"Pretty much." Dally closed his eyes at this point, looking fairly annoyed, and finished with the whole conversation.

"And, yet, somehow you still manage to screw up while you're here. Not much better then you were alive. You're lucky people can't die twice, or else I'm sure you woulda killed everyone up here off again with some of the stupid-ass shit you do," Two-Bit stuck out his tongue and grinned like a cat.

That comment did it. Dally's eyes popped back open and narrowed into tiny slits. Two-Bit _was_ lucky that this was the afterlife, or else this is where he would be winding up in the next ten seconds.

"I fucking dare you to say that to my face," Dally growled out. Did I mention he has a temper? Because he does- a very, easily triggered temper.

But, Two-Bit wasn't all that smart, either. At least, he didn't act like it most of the times.

He spun around, completely ignoring the warning signs the other was giving him, and was about to open his mouth. But, he forgot I was kind of tagging along for the ride. So, the second he shifted himself about, he put me in the direct line of view from my brothers- which, once they realized what had happened, made everyone shut up (even Dallas) in preparation for their reaction.

Soda's brown eyes widened to a degree I didn't know could be possible, tears brimming the rims of them. Darry stared, like he couldn't believe what was going on. Not that I could blame him.

I detached myself from Two-Bit, while he rubbed the back of his neck with one of his hands.

"Huh. Well, would ya lookit that! I guess he did show up, after all! The sly little kid that he is!" he clapped me on the back for the second time today, "Fancy meeting you here, Pony!"

Neither of my brothers acted as if he had said a word. Instead, they rushed towards me, and in the next instant, I was squished between the two of them. Hell, I wasn't complaining. It'd been too long since we'd had one of these. It felt nice, albeit hard to hug two people at one time. But, I managed.

Darry let go first, so Soda was the only one gripping me. My oldest brother always seemed to know when we needed a moment to ourselves.

Soda's brown eyes brimmed with tears, and when the first one leaked out, he didn't bother to try and stop it. It was just followed by a trail of them. Before I knew it, I was crying along with him.

"It's been too long," he said after a few moments of silence, and released me… sort of. His hands were still on my shoulders, "I haven't seen you in almost eighty years. And here you are, looking the same as I remember you." Soda sniffed, and I couldn't help but smile up at him.

"And you still look sixteen," I informed, one of my hands resting on top of his. My finally stopped, but they were making the threat of coming back up again.

"Seventeen," he corrected me, that famous movie-star grin appearing on his face. He hugged me tightly again, and it seemed as if he wasn't ever going to let go- not that I wanted him to. He was so warm, and it calmed me down some. My head rested in the crook of his neck, and my arms were wrapped around his middle.

Darry joined us yet again. He also had a tendency to know when he was needed or not. Like now, when his little brothers were about to cry up another storm. His large hand was on my back, rubbing smooth circles up and down it- something I wasn't used to coming from him. He was never the most gentle person out there.

"Good to have you back, Ponyboy," he said simply, but with a smile that expressed what he didn't put into words. His pale, ice eyes weren't hard right now. They were warm, and comforting. I smiled up at him from my spot in Soda's arms.

Two-Bit coughed after a few minutes. Leave it to him to ruin the moment. Soda let me go so I was standing in between both of my brothers.

Out group's joker cracked one of his infamous grins, before hugging me only seconds after I had been released.

"I really missed ya, kid. We've been through a lot together. Now we get to make some more memories," he said in an uncharacteristically soft and serious voice, as he patted my back and stood next to Darry.

Steve cleared his throat, but managed a light, awkward grin. "It was lonely without you as a tag-a-long," he stated simply, and then stood opposite of Two-Bit; next to my middle brother.

Johnny and Dally were up next. Although, the latter didn't really say much. He just kinda smirked at me while Johnny pulled me into a death grip. He didn't say anything, either. But, I didn't need him to. Even if I hadn't seen him since I was fourteen, I still knew him better then most people. We didn't need to have a conversation to know what the two of us meant. I knew he missed me just as much as I missed him.

He released me after a few seconds, then stood next to Dally, who was next to Two-Bit, completing our circle of seven.

I couldn't help the smile that took over my face. I really couldn't. Staring at all of my friends, at my brothers- and that didn't just include Darry and Soda- with their youthful, happy faces all grinning back at me made me feel warm inside.

We hadn't seen each other in years. Not all together like this, any way. Johnny died, Dally followed him, then went Soda and Steve, and Two-Bit and Darry. And finally me. But, the fact that I was dead didn't bother me much now. We were together again.

We were reunited.

And this time, it was for an eternity.

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><p><strong>AN: And, there you have it. I had plenty of fun writing this :) Hopefully you all enjoyed it, too! Please leave me a review telling me what you thought. Good, bad, or otherwise :D <strong>


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